


sober in the morning light

by uva



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Apologies, M/M, Post-Break Up, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22422973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uva/pseuds/uva
Summary: Kuroo misses Yaku.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Yaku Morisuke
Kudos: 49





	sober in the morning light

Kuroo feels like shit.

His ass hurts, first of all. The concrete steps he’s sitting on are cold and unforgiving, but then again, maybe that’s what he deserves. He’s the one who chose to come here, in the dead of night, and loiter in front of a house in the pitch black suburbs. It’s chilly as all hell, too, even for the beginning of summer. His gray hoodie does little to help with his shivering.

But that might be the fault of his hangover, not the cool air.

He drank too much, he realizes far too late. Had it not been for the bottle of whiskey, laying knocked over and now empty next to him, Kuroo would have never came here. 

When he and Yaku first broke up, he promised himself it was fine. Their relationship was never that serious anyway, and within a week he had himself convinced he was over it. And he lived like that for a while, pretending as if nothing ever happened between them and that the loss of Yaku as both a boyfriend and a friend didn’t affect him one bit.

He could only pretend for so long, though.

It hurt, he tried desperately not to admit. Kuroo would be doing things, living his life just as he had before Yaku, and then suddenly remember he was, in fact, alone. He had a hard time sleeping at night because, in the months they were together, he’d grown so accustomed to sleeping next to him. He had a hard time doing all the things he and Yaku used to do because there was no longer a Yaku there with him, it was just him. Kuroo, by himself.

Things he never thought would be difficult suddenly became so much of a chore. He was alone, and he had no idea why it hurt so much.

These last five weeks and three days have been agony. Five weeks and three days, that’s how long it’s been since they broke up. Kuroo knows because he hasn’t gone a day without thinking about Yaku, no matter what he tells himself.

He tried to keep it together, he really did. He tried to fill the hole Yaku left in his heart with liquor and one night stands. Bokuto took him out clubbing almost every day for a week trying to help him get back into the game, but it just didn’t feel right. Kuroo kept denying he felt this way—that he was actually hurt by what happened. And when that didn’t work, he kept reminding himself that this pain was only temporary, vehemently saying to himself again and again that time would soothe the ache in his chest.

So why didn’t it work?

Some nights he would lie in bed, wondering where it all went wrong, questioning what exactly he did to deserve to feel this way. He’d throw himself a pity party and then cry himself to sleep after a drink or two, because feeling sorry for himself was all he could really do.

It was his fault.

Kuroo was the one who started the fight, and he was the one who insisted on dragging it on. He brought it up for days afterward, he just couldn’t seem to let it go, let alone admit that he was wrong. At this point he doesn’t even remember much of what it was about, just that he was too proud to give in.

They never fought before; he didn’t know how to handle it. Eventually, Yaku got sick of him.

Even after they broke up, Kuroo couldn’t swallow his pride. He should’ve reached out sooner, should’ve tried to talk to Yaku. To apologize. There were so many chances to, why was he so stubborn?

But he could only go for so long without giving in to the incessant need to talk to Yaku. About the fight, about how he feels, about _anything_ , really. Kuroo wants to hear his voice again. He misses the sound of his voice.

So Kuroo found himself at Yaku’s home, at nearly four in the morning, drunk and knocking at his door, hoping he’d answer,

Of course he didn’t. It was four am, he was probably sound asleep.

So, tired and desolate, Kuroo just sat down on the steps. He couldn’t think of anything better to do. Go home? When he had already walked (or stumbled, more like) the three miles to get here? His hazy mind thought that’d be a waste.

His bottle of whiskey was still half full, but sometime during the night he got angry at himself and knocked it aside in a drunken fit. If it weren’t plastic, he probably would have shattered the glass on the walkway. 

That was so long ago, however. How much time had he been sitting out here, contemplating his existence and the state of his current relationships? He doesn’t remember. An hour, maybe two. The sun’s starting to rise, and by now he’s sobering up. Regret is starting to sink in, and with every passing second he’s feeling more and more horrible. His head throbs.

The neighbourhood around him grows brighter as dawn settles in. Kuroo moves a sluggish hand to feel around the pockets of his sweatpants, fishing around for the pack of cigarettes he’s made himself familiar with tonight. He lights one up, brings it to his lips, and takes a deep inhale. It’s not the first, he doubts it’ll be the last.

At one point in time tonight, that was a new pack. Now there’s only a couple left.

He doesn’t chainsmoke, usually, but tonight he’s been feeling particularly awful. Actually, he hardly used to smoke at all, for that matter, but Yaku breaking up with him sure has made him do some questionable things.

Halfway through his smoke, with morning light peeking through the horizon, he hears the click of a lock behind him. Kuroo thinks he’s imagining it, at first, but then comes the sound of the door swinging open behind him and he can’t stop himself from turning around. There stands Yaku, arms crossed and leaning against the doorframe, looking down at him.

Kuroo flinches, and then immediately stills. It can’t even be, what, seven am yet? Why is he up so early?

Yaku’s brown eyes seem to assess the state of Kuroo. His gaze wanders from his baggy clothes to the dark circles around his eyes to the knocked over whiskey bottle, then finally to the cigarette he’s pinching between his thumb and index finger. He almost looks amused, at first.

But Yaku gives a heavy sigh. He shakes his head slowly. “Why are you holding your cigarette like that? It’s so ugly.”

Kuroo doesn’t know what to say. He just sits there, his still lit cigarette burning yet completely forgotten, and stares at the man watching him.

Up until now, he thought he knew what to say. He went through this conversation so many times in his mind before, confident he’d react smoothly and coolly. He talked himself up so much, told himself what to say and exactly how to say it. He’s been waiting for this moment for so long, but now that he finally has the chance to say something to Yaku, he doesn’t know what to do.

When Yaku sees he’s not making a move to say anything, he sighs again. “What are you doing?”

A considerably easier thing to respond to, but Kuroo still finds it much too hard. “I just- I-... I dunno.” He glances away, tempted to take another drag of his smoke, but tosses it to the ground in with the rest of the burnt out stubs instead. He opens his mouth, closes it, then gives his own sigh of frustration. “I miss you.”

Yaku raises an eyebrow. “Okay.” A stiff pause. “It’s been _weeks_ , Kuroo.” 

That’s right, it’s been weeks. Yaku probably expects him to be over him by now, if not moved on entirely. _Yaku_ has probably moved on by now. For all he knows, Yaku could have someone else inside with him right now, in his bed and waiting for him to come back to sleep. 

Kuroo doesn’t like that thought.

He tries to say something, but before he can Yaku furrows his brows. “It’s been weeks, _Tetsurou_ , and this is the first time I’ve seen you since we broke up. You didn’t bother to call me. You didn’t even try to text me. I can’t believe you had the nerve to show up here, unannounced and, what—drunk? Drunk and smoking right outside my door, for all my neighbours to see?”

It’s surprising to discover just how much he missed Yaku yelling at him, but that odd feeling doesn’t last long because Kuroo knows he’s serious. Yaku really is mad at him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice quiet. That’s all he can say. How is he supposed to deal with this? “I shouldn’t-”

“Why?” Yaku interrupts him, the angry tone of voice has faded significantly. “ _Why_ , Kuroo? Why did it take so long?” His face softens, and now he just looks _sad_.

And now Kuroo doesn’t know how to deal with _this_. Seeing Yaku upsets makes him upset, he feels bad. Perhaps it would have been better if he just stayed home tonight, he thinks.

“I’m so sorry, Yaku.” His headache has gotten worse. His head is pounding. He reaches a hand up to his forehead. “I was too stubborn. I didn’t want to admit I missed you. I didn’t want to admit I was wrong.” The sky is getting too bright. His eyes feel heavy. “Everything is so dull without you now, I didn’t realize how much you meant to me. I should’ve reached out to you sooner, but I-... I was worried you hated me.”

Kuroo moves his hand lower to shield his eyes from the sun, but feels something wet against his fingers. Is he crying? He can’t be crying. “Yaku, I- I’m so sorry. You _should_ hate me, I was so stupid. God, Yakkun, I miss you so much.”

This time, when Yaku sighs, he uncrosses his arms. Kuroo blinks slowly when he sees him stepping outside, onto the steps next to him, but Yaku doesn’t speak as he picks up the whiskey bottle and sits down in its place. 

They sit there together quietly for a few minutes, Kuroo takes the time to collect himself. He swipes at the corners of his eyes, willing the tears to stop, and runs a hand through his hair in an attempt to make it look less horrid. As if that’s possible. By the time Yaku speaks, he feels slightly less trashy.

“I don’t hate you, Tetsurou.” Kuroo looks to him, but he avoids eye contact. “I… I miss you too. And I’m sorry for how things ended between us.”

God, he hates the hope these words give him. And Kuroo hates himself even more for daring to hope when Yaku continues.

“But I’m still mad at you. You really hurt me, you know? I don’t know if I’m over that, or if I’ll ever be.” When he finally looks at him, Kuroo wishes he hadn't. “I just… I wish you would have talked to me sooner.”

Kuroo considers what he says for a moment, both because he’s at a loss for words and because hearing his own heartbeat pounding in his ears makes it difficult to concentrate. “Yakkun…” His words sound so weak, so small, another reason to hate himself. “You don’t have to forgive me now, but please, can we try to fix this? I…” This past month flashes through his mind, and he thinks about just how impossible making it through the days felt. “I need you. I’m sorry I couldn’t admit it sooner.”

Yaku frowns, Kuroo decidedly does not like how vulnerable it’s making him feel. Anxiety fills his chest and his throat feels so dry. After it feels like an eternity has passed and Yaku still hasn’t said anything, Kuroo says, “please. You don’t have to say yes, but please say _something_.”

It prompts Yaku out of his thoughts, but he still hesitates. Then he sighs, for about the hundredth time now. “Just… We can talk about this later, okay? For now, let’s get you some pain reliever and a nap, and we can discuss how we move forward when you’re thinking better.” 

Yaku looks at Kuroo in a way he doesn’t remember him doing for ages. So softly, like he cares about him. It makes Kuroo’s insides melt, he can’t stop himself from pulling him into a hug.

Yaku stays stiff, but quickly warms into it. He wraps his arms around Kuroo and holds him. It takes all Kuroo has to keep himself from crying.

A few seconds pass, and Yaku sniffs him. He adds, “we’ll get you a shower, too.”

Kuroo laughs into Yaku’s shoulder. His laughter soon breaks into sobs. Distantly, he feels a comforting hand start stroking up and down his back. “Thank you, Yakkun.”

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this while half asleep as a ventfic thanks


End file.
